Everything In Its Wrong Place
The stifling closeness wouldn’t go away. I felt it most at night: darkness and cold, breathless and clammy. Parts of my scalp burned, and I rubbed the ends of my fingers into open sores.
After two weeks, I hitched up the wagon and rode into town, hoping the horse could guide me through my almost constant fit. He shone a light into my eyes and took my pulse – a few ticks slower than normal – and my temperature – a point lower than normal, but he could find nothing else wrong with me. He leaned back in his wooden chair and studied me through those Ben Franklin glasses stuck to the bridge of his nose.
“What’s been happening in your life, Annie?”
“My sister died. Two weeks ago. Apparently, she drowned in the creek while washing Harlan’s work shirts. I found her.”
“Well, that’s enough upset to make the best of us unwell.”
“But, that isn’t it, Doc. I -”
I straightened my skirt and groped my way to the window. Through the odd rays of light, I wondered how to tell Doc the truth.
“What is it, Annie?”
I couldn’t face him when I said it. “It’s my fault this is happening to me. Right before we sealed her casket, I know she squeezed my hand.”
*********
This is my re-imagining of a story I heard in my childhood about a woman who was buried alive. It was such a common fear that safety coffins were invented in the late 1700′s. Outfitted with windows, bells and other mechanisms, these shrouds enabled the not-quite-dead to escape, often with the help of cemetery watchers, people employed to assist in freeing them.
I’ve always wondered whether my childish imaginings of this tale led to my fear of complete darkness.
The conclusion of a fiction series to explore a phobia. Read the introductory installment here, the second installment here, the third installment here, the fourth installment here and the fifth installment here.
I knew it! Somehow, I had thought this was her brother, but I KNEW she was buried alive!!
It’s scary how common it used to be, before all the machines could tell for certain a person was gone.
dang it isn’t even Halloween and you got the hair standing up on the back my neck.
I don’t want to think about how horrible that must’ve been.
I have never heard this before. Hmmm, or maybe I have since blocked it out.
Here’s a whole Wikipedia article, for your reading (dis)pleasure.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Safety_coffin
Off topic but I really don’t get coffins.
I guess also that I had meant I never heard such a story about burying the living. Thought it was only in movies
That’s scary, Andra.
It always scared me.
Yes, it was just a slight squeeze, but, she did try.
She did. And, she failed.
Blimey, Andra… I never expected that!
I’m thoroughly chilled now!
Tom, I have to tell you my history with the word ‘blimey.’
My next-door-neighbor growing up was the daughter of an half-English/half-American couple. We went to a beach near where I live, and an old English car had the specialty tag “blimey” on it. She only told me that it was a very bad word, but she never told me what it meant. I have since learned, and I always think of her whenever I see or hear it. So, thank you.
A pleasure!
It’s actually a word I don’t use very often, but every now and then its use is needed…
Here’s hoping that somehow, someday, she finds out she was wrong.
That will have to be part of a greater story. I have taxed you poor readers enough with sad.
Ahh then, a horror story for sure. However, I see this ending altogether differently. If Annie had even a suspicion there was a squeeze of her hand, why did she not say so right then? A guilty conscience will surely eat you alive!
That’s very true, and the way I thought about it.
You know that Edgar Allen Poe had the dread fear, right? That is where a good number of his stories come from. The fear of being left for dead, taken for dead, or worse yet, buried alive. Sealed in a tomb … where no one can hear you scream. Worse than being in a cave when the lights go out?
To me, being in a cave with no light is worse, because you still have air and could live for a while in that place.
Complete helplessness is a very frightening thought. So much so, that I’m not going to think about it on this rare sunny morning. Very cool writing.
Glad you have a sunny day, Roger.
I’m sleeping with a light on in my coffin tonight Andra.
Me too.
I remember fearing this as a child. I’d wake up with sweat pouring off of me and clawing at the air. I also thought it was a brother but the blog before this one made me aware that the brother wasn’t a brother, but a sister. *shudder* Perhaps I was one of those buried alive (in a former life – if you believe in reincarnation) and that’s why I have the claustraphobia today? Or, it could be because my lovely (using the term VERY loosely) brother locked me in a U-Haul trailer when I was younger. Anyway, quite the fear (along with the fear of failure the sister has for not speaking up).
Being locked in a U Haul would give most of us claustrophobia. Shudder
Oh my, oh my! Yes! I’ve heard the same story, or stories, and never knew if they were really true, but the very idea has always made me very uneasy. I have often had an eerie concern about this, although I can’t really say I’ve thought of it as a phobia. I have had a fear of being buried alive more in the line of the recent kidnapping in Alabama. Being taken underground–too vivid an imagination when I listen to unpleasant news events! I loved this series from the start to finish, Andra. And i think it is some of your best short fiction writing to date! oxo
Debra, the inspiration for this one is true, though the relationships and back story are my invention. I will not go into how they learned they had buried this poor woman alive. Alas, she was not alive by the time they found her.
Properly FreakyandFabulous, Andra.
Thank you, Fiona. Probably not the best fiction for you at the moment, so a double thank you for reading.
Gah! That really is a horrifying phobia; I am not at all claustrophobic but it gives me the willies just thinking about it. And I can’t imagine the guilt at the mistake if there was one.
This experience would give the stoutest person claustrophobia, I suspect.
Oooh, shivers. I’m so glad I saved these up to read in a nice gluttonous bite.
They do read more like a short story that way, don’t they?